Windswept
by genieforyourworld
Summary: AU/ He has no sense of decorum to offer when reality slips between his fingers. — Suigetsu/Karin


**disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me.**

* * *

**-  
windswept  
-**

You tie back your hair and put on your glasses.

It's another morning whereby the sun faintly bleeds through the curtains and the world starts to move again.

There are many turns you can take, today and the next, several crossroads at which you can break. You try not to struggle and aim to just get past it.

As always, you dress your best, eat a healthy breakfast and some days — when the urge to hide or stand out just that little bit more fills your being — a feather of makeup.

The cosmetics occasionally sting and burn, and you choke on the (_poisonous_) fumes and scratch yourself with the manicured (_fake artificial plastic_) nails.

The road seems even more endless as you drift and daydream with a friend with no name who sits next to you in the driver's seat. You like wondering, losing yourself within the comforts of your own imagination where _not a single soul _can judge or ridicule.

The no-named-friend asks you questions that you're almost sure you've heard before. So you don't bother to answer.

You're not jealous of Blondie's latest boyfriend, no matter how gorgeous his eyes shine or how striking his biceps look. You do not think about the couple who shouldn't go but most definitely do. And you don't care about the shy girl in violet and lavender with the bright sunny boy from maths who just happen to be secretly holding hands.

They are not _you_.

* * *

The clouds are light and pale today which makes you glad. A silver lining which makes you smile. Your headphones are playing full blast – the pressure wont last much longer and they will undoubtedly stop working soon. Humming along, it's a fact that you are out-of-tune, and you couldn't care less.

A stranger who is not a stranger sits next to you on the roof again. No hello, not even a nod, is given in acknowledgement and that annoys you. In another universe, you'd snap at him, fight and argue – not here, though, because it's kind of nice to have some company in a world where you are drowning in lies and deceit and make-believe.

He steals one earphone and laughs an apology as you frown — almost snarl — with your best _are you shitting me _look. He laughs more. You _almost _like the sound of it.

You are waiting for the rain to fall, and the storm to begin. But it doesn't. Not today.

* * *

He offers you a cigarette the next time he joins you. _Delinquent_, you think, knowing that you are way out of his league.

You decline the offer because he still hasn't said hello.

He picks the song today and you _almost _like the way he sings along — partially out-of-tune — freely and untroubled by your opinion.

Fire and kerosene flash in purple eyes. It's odd, but its different, so you look for more.

* * *

You are compelled by the way the sunlight reflects (or refracts – you're not good at dealing with physics. Or chemistry. Or biology, for that matter) on the glass bottle the stranger slash acquaintance person pulls out. The liquid is clear and freely flows – it is not water.

You take up the offer today, but only a few sips. There's a party tonight and you're supposed to get _pissed drunk _for that. Waiting is boring though. The taste is cringe worthy — bitter and vile — at first. He laughs at you, again, before knocking some back.

Inhaling through your nose, you can't smell anything, neither can you see. It feels good. But it is annoying because he has no sense of decorum to offer when reality slips between his fingers.

* * *

"Where were you yesterday?" is the first thing that slips from his lips, _almost _as if he cared.

"Hangover," you mumble quietly. He says he knows the feeling.

Sleep deprived from tossing and turning, you lay back and stare at mixtures of blue, white and gray. You hope — fingers crossed — that the rain will hold off.

You barely notice when he lays down beside you.

Neither of you say anything after that.

* * *

He has a strange laugh, you realise when you find him at your spot on the roof when lessons are still running.

Moving over to make room, you sit beside him and take out you headphones.

Today, you offer one end to him.

He takes it with a smile and a word of thanks. Finally, looking into _deep deep _rouge eyes that you have hated your whole life, he tells you his name.

It takes a brief moment for you to regain composure and smile back.

You tell him yours.

* * *

The first time he finally says hello, you _almost _beam.

You do not remember how long ago these meet-ups (if that is what you would call them) began, but you are relieved.

It feels better this way. He's not a stranger anymore, and you are not alone.

You have become so used to this routine, you can not bare to part with it.

The sun is bright; the air is calm and still. There is no background noise and the world is balanced, perfect and you can breathe. Like this, you're neither knocked back or blown away with other peoples love stories and day dreams. It's all real.

Suigetsu kisses you once — maybe twice — and it's bittersweet and nothing like you imagined it would be. You're lost for words when that day comes and it finally rains. Not heavily though, just a light passing shower on your way home.

The curtains are shut and you take off your clothes.

You let down your hair and take off your glasses.

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**extra: **It's been awhile since I wrote them. They're almost as awesome as Doctor Who.

_Review._


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